


Street Corners and Solid Ground

by Typey



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typey/pseuds/Typey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka picked up that ping-pong paddle from Artie's bag to see whether it was an artifact; Helena eventually picked it up for quite a different purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Street Corner

**Author's Note:**

> An AU based off of a gif from _Vendetta_

Myka was fairly certain that the ping pong paddle she had found in Artie’s bag had no artifact properties. Not only had she tested it herself on the street, but she’d even dropped it into a static bag later that day after discreetly transferring it to her own satchel. At the time, Myka wasn’t sure _why_ , exactly, she’d been so focused on the object as she stood there with Helena and Pete desperate for clues to save Artie; but she had learned to have faith in her intuition as much as in her training, so she hadn’t hesitated to tuck it into her suitcase for the flight home.

And home they were, all of them; Artie safe, Helena reinstated as a Warehouse agent. Myka in her bedroom unpacking. Unpacking the paddle.

And the thought that had been churning in her subconscious since the moment she’d given it a few waves up and down came to the surface. Not _up and down_ , the image in her head was telling her _back and forward_. And the rest of that image was one of a dark-haired woman — no longer wearing well-fitting pants and a blue shirt — bent at the waist and casting a heated look over her shoulder, catching sight of her own reddened ass in the mirror over her dresser.

Myka spun the paddle in her hand, testing its weight, the shape of its handle. She imagined how much force it would take, how long she could stand it. But the sounds would carry through the B&B, and Myka had no intention of letting the rest of them — letting _Pete_ — be privy to any welcome reunion of hers with the woman who had stolen her heart.

Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the other woman’s presence in the room until one hand wrapped firmly around her waist and the other stilled the spinning paddle.

“Mmmmm, I’d rather hoped you’d brought that back with you.” Helena grinned while she lowered her right hand from Myka’s hip to cup the taller woman’s backside.

“You did?” Not quite a squeak, Myka’s reply nonetheless gave away her surprise and embarrassment. She tried not to notice how easily she was allowing herself to be led toward her bed; the slightest of pressure along the left side of her body sufficing to get her moving away from the door, one slow pat to her ass convincing her body to turn minutely away from Helena so the older woman could take the paddle from her hand.

Helena leaned in to whisper, “yes, darling. Tonight will be a most welcome reprieve from loneliness, and I look forward to the slow, soft, _quiet_ lovemaking we will indulge in. But the next time we are alone? I will indeed make all those fantasies of yours come true,” she punctuated that promise with something quite more than a pat.

She held her hand there, pressing against Myka’s ass to get her attention for a completely serious question, the moment heightened both by the nerves dancing across Myka’s skin from where Helena’s hand had connected and by the intense gaze Helena fixed on green eyes. “That is what you were contemplating just now, wasn’t it?”

Myka barely voiced her answer, but the affirmative was no less sure for its low volume. She leaned in to capture Helena’s lips, whispering, “please” as she closed the final distance.


	2. From the Street Corner to the Dresser

Weeks. It had been weeks since their return from Russia. Weeks since the promise Helena had made about that… _that_. Myka’s eyes drifted across the room toward her dresser where the paddle lay. No matter how quick the glance, no matter how casual the scan of her belongings, Myka would never be able to convince anyone — least of all herself — that her focus wasn’t drawn at all times to that varnished wooden toy.

Helena had left it leaning next to Myka’s jewelry box that first night back in the B&B before guiding Myka to the bed and acquainting herself with her body and trembles and sighs. Myka didn’t blush to think of that night, the hours of patient, reverent love-making that forged a bond between them that had first glowed in the heat of anger and fear and faith.

She blushed now just _looking_ at the paddle, and she certainly hadn’t been able to bring herself to touch it since Helena had left it. Not even to move it from plain view. So for weeks it had drawn her focus every time she was in her room. Every time she thought of it sitting there. Every time she thought of Helena’s elegant, pale fingers wrapped around its handle.

Helena. Helena who had read Myka’s thoughts and gave them the name “fantasy.” Helena who had had the same thoughts. _Fantasies_.

Helena who was standing in the doorway.

“Penny for your thoughts?” If she’d been any less focused on her fantasies, on the paddle itself, Myka might have snorted at Helena’s unknowing mimicry of the word she’d just used in her own mind. Helena hadn’t moved and indicated nothing other than a mild interest that matched her neutral question.

Myka couldn’t help flicking her eyes back toward the dresser before meeting Helena’s.

“Ah, yes. We have the place to ourselves until tomorrow now that Artie and Leena have departed. Pete and Claudia do not return until late in the afternoon?”

A slight nod was all that Myka could manage. She couldn’t name the emotion roiling within her. She wasn’t afraid. And she wasn’t uncertain. But she couldn’t give voice to her desires, not with a tool of them staring at her from the dresser.

“May I come in?” Helena waited for Myka’s nod before entering the room, but she did not hesitate once across the threshold to come all the way to Myka’s side and sit on the edge of the bed.

Myka wished she hadn’t startled at Helena’s soft hand caressing her knee. Helena stilled her hand but did not remove it.

“Myka, I will sit here as long as you need. Just _sit_ , though, until we talk. No love-making until we do. No smacking.”

Myka wished she hadn’t gasped at the sound of the word from Helena’s lips, not only because she felt childish but because of the concern growing in Helena’s eyes.

“Darling, are you afraid?” A deep furrow creasing her lover’s brow was enough to get Myka talking, if only to assuage what she could tell was rapidly rising guilt.

“No…” It came out more of a croak than a declaration, and Myka cleared her throat. “Not of _you_.” The amendment was the truth but it didn’t seem to resolve Helena’s concern.

Myka looked back at the paddle, this time keeping her eyes on it as she spoke.

“Yes, I want to make love to you all night. And yes I would like to talk about…” she faltered momentarily, but Helena left the silence to her. A deep breath gave her the voice and a look into Helena’s eyes gave her the courage to continue. “To talk about the paddle.”

“You would like to _talk_ about it? Tell me your fantasies? Or you would like me to do with it what I first imagined when I saw you waving it about on the street corner?”

Myka couldn’t contain her surprise at the revelation of when Helena’s fantasies had begun. “You imagined paddling me on a street corner in front of Pete?!”

Helena chuckled and gave affirmation to her stunned lover. “Regardless of your ambiguous syntax, I imagined all of that while I was standing on the street corner. Paddling you right there, even one smack. Paddling you senseless, oblivious to passersby and Pete. Paddling you, naked, anywhere, until you moaned and wept and climaxed. Yes. In the split second I saw you, out of the corner of my eye, pick up that paddle, I imagined countless scenarios of me applying it to your backside.”

During that monologue, Helena had slid her hand higher up Myka’s leg as the heat in her voice had risen. By the time Myka realized she was breathing faster, in time with Helena’s words, her lover’s fingers were teasing her inner thigh.

“What had you imagined?”

Helena’s question, at a much moderated tone from the deep rumble of moments earlier, caught Myka fully off-guard.

“Uh, nothing. I was looking for anything to help us.” The disconnect between the hand stroking her leg and the question was distracting Myka from the pleasure she felt any time she was this close to Helena at all and the rising heat and wetness that had gathered so near Helena’s hand.

Helena’s throaty laugh sent a frisson down Myka’s spine. “Always so focused. So _responsible_.” A light pat of Helena’s hand on the bare skin of Myka’s leg nearly made the younger woman jump to her feet.

“Darling, if you hadn’t thought of the various uses for that paddle, why did you ask me to promise to use it?” Myka sensed some hesitation on Helena’s part, as if the fears of the newly reinstated agent of perhaps having gone too far were superseding the intuition of a lover.

“Oh, I had those thoughts, just not until later. Until home. Here.” Her eyes flicked back to the paddle on the dresser in a move that no longer felt like a betrayal. They lingered there for a moment before Myka gathered her legs from Helena and swung them to the floor. Stepping across the room to the dresser, she picked up the paddle and spun it in her hand a few times, again testing its weight.

She turned back to Helena, who was still seated on the bed, and raised an eyebrow in question, “did you have a preference for _how_ you applied this to my backside?”  
Her confident strut back to Helena must have convinced her, both of them, that any reservations either of them had were put to rest. Talking had done the trick for Myka that staring had not been able to achieve. That paddle she was entrusting to her lover was in its rightful spot, and her shorts and tank top tossed onto the chair were in theirs.

“How about we start simple, darling.” Helena stood up to remove her own clothes, Myka’s favorite button-down shirt adding to the pile on the chair along with the pants she’d wriggled out of. Resting up against the headboard, Helena gestured for her lover to stretch out across her thighs.

No hesitation, no courage-rallying deep breath. Just a glide onto hands and knees on the bed, with a not-so-brief pause to kiss Helena deeply, led to Myka resting comfortably with her head turned toward Helena and ass in the air.

Myka smiled inwardly and lost herself in the moment as she felt Helena’s arm raise and the paddle crack down.


	3. From Flying to Solid Ground

Myka’s moans rose in counterpoint to the sound of the thin wooden paddle smacking rhythmically, relentlessly onto her ass. A sound she barely registered, overcome with the pattern of blooming pain followed by searing, seeping heat and grinding, searching thrusts against Helena’s thigh.

A sound she hadn’t yet realized stopped even as she felt Helena’s hand, strong for the endless minutes she’d been wielding the paddle turned soothing and purposeful as she stroked fingers up and down the backs of Myka’s thighs. Fingers that drifted close to the source of Myka’s need but did not dip into it.

Myka arched her back, opening her legs wider, offering entry to her lover’s fingers. Her fists, balled into the sheets, provided leverage for her to clench her abdomen, bringing her hips into solid contact with as much of Helena’s right leg as she could. She rolled and thrusted her hips, aiming for relief, even if only against Helena’s skin, now slippery with sweat and Myka’s own wetness.

She thought she had been begging for minutes, hours, days for Helena to find those spots within her to make her come undone. To find those spots that let her find herself. But Helena’s name screamed in Myka’s voice was only in her head. Hoarsely, she forced out a single desperate, “Helena.” Jerking out of rhythm now, pressing her forehead into the mattress as she sought pressure, she moaned again. From somewhere deep inside, a place in her heart unlocked by Helena, she found the word she’d used all those weeks ago, “Please.”

And she groaned in relief as Helena’s fingers slid inside her while her other hand settled down at the small of her back. Helena’s thigh flexed beneath Myka’s hips, the hand on her back pressing down in time with the thrusting of Helena’s fingers. Myka let go of the sheets with her right hand and slipped it between their bodies, finding her own clit to stroke and circle and rub, losing track of her well-practiced pace as Helena and she found their own together and Myka clenched hard around her lover’s fingers amid waves of crashing climax.

Gasping for breath and unable to move, she mumbled a querying, “you?” As far as she could tell, Helena had not come. Then again, as far as Myka knew right then, the world had stopped spinning.

“I’m perfectly fine, darling. More than, even, given the vision in front of me. Red does suit you quite well.” Helena’s laugh was paired with a gentle pat to Myka’s still throbbing ass. The hand remained and drew light circles along the outer edges of the earlier target, occasionally slipping down to the backs of Myka’s thighs.

“Thank you, by the way. That was perfect.” Myka propped herself up on one elbow to look back at Helena, but made no move to get up. She could still feel the tears on her cheeks, and her muscles would be sore for days — not to mention her ass. But she was never one to deny credit where it was due, and Helena had given her just what she didn’t know she needed.

“I was a bit concerned when I first came up here. I hadn’t been thinking of seducing like this right away, you know. But I caught you glaring at the paddle like you thought it would attack. And then you were so…hesitant.”

“I just…I guess I was hesitant. I sometimes…I feel.” Myka stopped. To think, to focus on her words and not on the hand still painting comfort on flesh it had made raw. “I feel like I get swept up by you,” the women shared a smile even as Myka continued. “And the flirting over the paddle when we got back? I wasn’t prepared for it but I took it a step further. And then I had to pause mid-step for so long that the idea of it loomed.”

Myka reached back with her free arm to take Helena’s other hand and place a gentle kiss to its palm. “You make me want to fly through the world when sometimes I just want to be on solid ground with you. And tonight, knowing we were alone, I had no idea which one I wanted. And none at all what you wanted.”

Another kiss gave her the moment she needed, this time for the courage to say what welled up inside of her every time she saw Helena. “I can’t wait for you any longer. I love you, Helena, and I needed to know where we stand.”

She met Helena’s gaze, each pair of eyes questing, asking, answering. Myka felt certain that the two women had the same questions — how long? what is this? — and the same answers — forever; everything — making all the rest of it, the flirting, the sex, the occasional red ass, so small compared to love.


	4. Resetting Solid Ground

Helena’s hand continued its lazy path up and down Myka’s back. They’d been silent for a quarter of an hour at least, Myka nestled into Helena’s side and keeping any of her weight off of her ass. Her tears had completely dried and her paddled flesh ached more than stung now. The rest of her body she wasn’t so sure about; the orgasm she’d had across Helena’s thighs had left a blissful lassitude in its wake, and Myka couldn’t quite manage to make her limbs move. Couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this at ease.

But she shifted a bit to look up at her lover. The woman she loved. The woman who loved her.

Myka had said the words earlier and watched from her vantage propped up on one elbow as Helena drank them in. Myka didn’t believe Helena’s delay in responding had been out of hesitation or fear or dishonesty. Moments had passed before Helena reached to draw Myka’s shoulders toward her; Myka had risen to her knees on either side of Helena’s outstretched legs. Helena had cradled Myka’s face, gently brushing her thumbs across cheeks and down her jaw and lightly along her lower lip, before she leaned forward to press a firm kiss to Myka’s closed lips.

In the aftermath of Myka’s wild orgasm that night — and all the ones with Helena prior — she had no doubt of Helena’s desire for her. Helena had kissed her with promise and in seduction, and even a few times in recent days playfully. This kiss had none of Helena’s assertive command or her need to explore. This kiss told Myka, “yes, forever, everything” in answer to Myka’s need to know where they stood.

When Helena finally pulled away, it was to say, “I love you, Myka. And we will stand together.”

Myka had settled in curled against Helena’s still-warm body at that declaration. When she eventually lifted her head from Helena’s shoulder to look into her eyes, darkened further by heightened desire, the older woman’s hand stilled.

“Everything all right, darling?”

Myka’s slight smile was only the merest reflection of the contentment she felt at Helena’s concern. “Perfect.” She paused and took a steadier look at Helena’s flushed face and throat, her dilated eyes, her parted lips. “But you’re not.”

“Oh, Myka. I may not have intended to seduce you that way when I first came upstairs, but I’m so glad I did. Watching you come undone like that? I am soaring.”  
Myka wasn’t going to deny Helena the right to feel happy at bringing her to such an overwhelming climax, but she also wasn’t going to deny Helena the feeling of being given what she herself deserved.

“Do you want to spend the rest of the night unsatisfied? To prove something?” Myka fought hard to keep concern the paramount emotion in her tone. Helena looked away from her anyway, sensing the challenge.

“No, not to prove anything. And I do not particularly _want_ to spend the rest of the night unsatisfied, it’s only that I’d prefer you to be satisfied — in whatever way you need.”  
Myka shifted farther upright and reached for the other woman, turning her chin so they could face each other. “I didn’t expect you to be so willing to refuse me the chance to love you.”

She hadn’t intended the word to have more than the most carnal of meanings, but she watched as Helena’s quick mind applied the word “love” more broadly, and as the not-so-buried doubt showed on her face.

“Oh, Helena. Not love like _that_. Love like _this_.” And she captured the other woman’s lips and swept her tongue between them. She rose to her knees, straddling Helena’s thighs. Her hands dropped to Helena’s waist and began two searching, patient paths across pale, quivering skin; up to her breasts to find Helena’s sensitive nipples.

Myka left a series of soft kisses down Helena’s throat, along her collar bones, on those freckles that adorned her breasts. As she began to slide down Helena’s body, she turned her head to the side briefly to get her bearings and caught a reflection of herself in the mirror over her dresser — her ass, reddened expertly by Helena, framed by pale skin and set off by the dark curls falling over her shoulders — and smiled in lust as the heat began to rise inside her again at the memory of her first fantasies for that paddle.

She gently took Helena’s knees to urge them open and set her body into the space between them. Glancing up at her lover, who had not made a sound during Myka’s explorations, she saw half-closed eyes and an open mouth. Helena’s left hand had reached above her to grab hold of the headboard and her right was drawing circles around and between and over her breasts and stomach.

Myka pressed kisses to the insides of Helena’s thighs, causing them to fall farther open and bring Helena’s heels closer to Myka. The heat that had built in Helena starting before Myka’s own orgasm apparently had not abated, and Helena was wet and warm, starting to rock her hips in anticipation of fingers or tongue or anything at all.  
Myka obliged, passing fingers through damp curls to open her lover up. She inhaled the scent she’d come to love over many weeks of stolen nights together, together but never alone until now.

Sweeping her tongue up the length of Helena, from wet center to clit, Myka reveled in the trembles she could feel at each pass. She delighted in hearing Helena’s breath speed up and become ragged, hitching every time Myka circled her clit and stopping every time Myka flicked it, scraped it with her teeth, sucked on it. Her heart thrilled when she felt Helena’s right hand fist in her hair, the expression of need finally breaking through the many layers of doubt and distance Helena wore as armor.

Sliding two fingers fully into Helena, Myka found a rhythm matching thrusts to tongue flicks, and Helena’s hips, rising off the bed sought to meet it. The moments that the two women rocked in unison, head and hips rising and falling together, brought Helena to the break. The manic thrusting as she came brought Helena’s voice full-throated.  
Myka slowed the pace of her tongue to gather as much of Helena as she could, and she held Helena’s hips steady as her lover rolled through the last moments of climax. A soft kiss to one thigh led to more kisses back up Helena’s body — and several to those captivating freckles — before Myka hovered over Helena’s lips, waiting for the other woman to open her eyes.

She did, and added a soft, “thank you, by the way. That was perfect.” Myka grinned at Helena’s ability to recall the words she herself had used earlier.

“You’re welcome. So are you.” Myka let herself believe that the blush and eyes darting away from hers were a function of uncharacteristic bashfulness. Helena took a deep breath before drawing Myka down to rest on top of her, and Myka let herself believe it was in contentment.


End file.
